


Lilitu

by dulce_de_leche_go



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Demonic Possession, Demons, Dulceween Short Story, F/M, Gratuitous Nonsense, Groping, Halloween, Halloween Tumblr Fic, Lilin | Lilim, Magical Artifacts, Nonsense, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Post-Hogwarts, Tom Riddle's Diary, tomione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 15:36:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13550334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dulce_de_leche_go/pseuds/dulce_de_leche_go
Summary: ONE-SHOT - Halloween Tumblr Fic! - Hermione, while working on investigating some recovered artefacts, comes across two interesting and decidedly problematic items.





	Lilitu

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr and uploaded to FFNet, I'm finally uploading this to AO3 also! It was just a little short for the SpookyScaryDulceWeen thing I do every year on Tumblr and...is nonsense. Utter nonsense.
> 
> This has been edited in parts for better clarity and just because some parts made me cringe at the awful writing. o_o (So hopefully it's slightly less awful as a result. Still nonsense though.)

* * *

Traces, there were definitely  **_traces_ ** .

After all these years since its supposed destruction, Hermione was amazed that it still had even the faintest bit of his magical signature.

And she was sure it was  _ his _ magical signature. For someone that spent so many days and nights with the - now-deceased - Dark Lord’s locket around their neck, it proved difficult to purge the sensation of what it felt like.

Hermione turned Tom Riddle's diary over and over in her gloved hands, one hand fiddling with the torn and ragged cover and the other gripping her wand to swish and flick and flourish until it was restored to the point she didn’t think it would fall apart if she just...poked at it a bit more. 

Sure, she was supposed to be filing - cataloging things away and getting all these cursed objects into their properly secured spaces - and she  _ would _ . It’s not as though they were going anywhere. And she hadn’t had a break yet, either--it was fine.

It was the least she could do, what with its baffling appearance.

Somewhere during her filing of mystical, and mostly likely cursed, pendants - all presently forgotten - a new shipment from the Artefact Recovery Team had been delivered. Like a child on Christmas, Hermione rifled through the package to see what goods had been delivered this time. There were all sorts of exotic things and doodads in various cases and containers within it but, as soon as she’d felt the muted thrum of that familiar energy pulsing from deep within the box, she’d set herself on a hunt.

All thoughts of productivity derailed as soon as she’d set eyes on the ragged looking book and the huge hole carved out of its middle.

Only Merlin knew where the Away Team found it!

"Bloody hell," she said in astonishment.

It wasn't possible. It just wasn’t.

Except it was?

Evidently it was...

It’d been only a scant few years since the end of the war, but this piece of Voldemort should’ve been dead for much longer. It wasn’t at all what she expected, either.

Although she hadn’t had much first hand experience with it before, but Harry had told her about it long after its destruction. The most curious part about it was that the pages that should have been blank - if she understood him correctly - were all filled with inky splotches. Most of them were illegible, appearing only as blocky blobs instead of any script she’d ever seen, but others she recognized as runes. Others still must have been lettering or languages she just wasn’t familiar with. All that and the fact that it felt as though it were practically breathing was, well, a little disconcerting to say the least.

It was also  _ fascinating. _

So engrossed in her inspection of the diary and its curious - and  _ surely _ harmless - traces of life, she failed to notice the mingling of two of the new artefacts that she’d so carelessly discarded in favor of this one.

Somewhere between her twentieth and thirtieth page flip, she also happened to miss the teensy, tiny,  _ nearly microscopic _ spark arcing between the diary and said aforementioned mingling artefacts.

What Hermione did  _ not  _ miss, however, was the bright, blinding flash of light that erupted from Tom Riddle’s diary as soon as that spark connected to its pages.

The book burned.

_ Literally _ burned.

Tom Riddle’s diary was on  _ fire _ .

“ _ Bugger-shit-fuck-fuck-fuck! _ ”

With a shocked round of cursing, Hermione flung the book away and ripped the flaming gloves from her hands. She was reaching for her wand, hoping to cast anything she could think of to ease the pain of the burns, when a booming  _ CRACK _ sounded in her office and the very floor trembled and quaked.

And then she was falling.

Hermione’s arms windmilled, groped for anything and everything to stop her plummet, succeeding only in palming and ripping the lineup of magical pendants on her desk down with her.

Once the light cleared a curious sight was waiting for her.

A young man in his late teens stood staring coldly down at her, all sharp angles and dark features. The equally dark hair he sported was neatly parted and precisely coiffed, adding an excellent finish to the perfectly put together individual who appeared to be a student--if the large embroidered Hogwarts shield on his left breast was anything to go by.

There was an aura about him--one of power and command that shifted the way he smirked down at Hermione’s fallen form from something jovial to something much more predatory.

Hermione groaned, slowly coming back around from the quake of his manifestation.

"Greetings," the young man said. “My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle.” 

He gave Hermione a once over, his smirk turning more towards a sneer than anything else. Spotting her discarded wand, he whipped a very solid hand out to claim it and levelled it at her, brimming with a morbid sort of glee at his fortune. 

"And who is it that shall have the pleasure of welcoming my return as my first victim?"

Managing to get upright with no shortage of difficulties, Hermione hunched forward. Clueless to his threatening posture thanks to the mop of hair masking her vision, the only indication she’d heard him was the way her head tilted towards his voice.

Aggravated by her silence, when next Tom spoke, it was with a barely restrained hiss.

"I  _ asked _ you a question, witch! It would be in your best interest if you answered. And quickly! Before I lose my patience and you lose your chance to at least be recognized for your pitiful sacrifice as a stepping stone before your new Dark Lor—"

Tom’s words choked off abruptly by the hand now at his throat and the other clamped down around his where he gripped Hermione’s borrowed wand. 

“You smell like power, little virgin boy…” A voice that was smooth, sultry, and not  _ quite _ Hermione’s trickled from her throat like honeyed wine.

Tom’s eyes went wide, never having even seen the woman twitch before she appeared flush against him.

So befuddled by the movement, the only thing he managed to say in response was a stammered, “Wh- _ what?” _

Fluid as a dancer, Hermione’s body writhed against his, hips brushing his and her face moving to his neck. Her nose traced over the skin above his perfectly pressed collar where she partook of his scent with a comically loud inhale in the otherwise quiet room.

“I like power,” she said.

Tom blinked, clearly taken aback by the woman that was now nuzzling her lips against him in a way that was upsettingly not unpleasant. 

"I-- _ sorry? _ " His dark and mysterious tone buggered right off in favor of one that was part stunned shock and part confusing arousal.

Hermione’s hand peeled away from his neck, opting to trail along the breadth of his shoulder. She purred again and made her way to his ear, taking the lobe between her teeth while her other hand released his wrist in favor of slipping between them to curl her fingers over the growing bulge at his groin.

_ “I like this,”  _ that voice within a voice said.

She gave him a squeeze.

“Madame, you  _ WILL _ control yourself!” Tom screeched. 

Shoving her away and pointing his stolen wand at her again, he cleared his throat and took the opportunity to straighten his clothing and to  _ not _ think about how uncomfortable his trousers were right now. 

“I  _ am _ powerful, yes.” He managed to keep his voice from cracking. “I am also  _ beyond _ such mundane sorts of things like pleasures of the flesh! Congratulations, you have successfully squandered your chance to-- _ what are you doing?” _

“‘Madame’ makes me sound so  _ old _ , Tom Mar- _ vo- _ lo Riddle.” 

She savored every syllable as though she were rolling sweet candy around her tongue. Shrugging free of her blazer, Hermione’s fingers then went to work on the buttons of her blouse and skirt. 

“Do I look old, Tom?”

His wand arm faltered as she stepped forward again, now clad only in underthings.

“M-madame, a-as I said, I am--I am above these--” 

Her bra hit the ground with a soft thud.

“--things.”

"Do I feel old, Tom?" she asked. 

She reached out to coax his free hand onto the curve of her breast, guiding him in the motion of rolling the pert nipple between his thumb and forefinger and rewarding him for a good job with a soft moan. 

"Does  _ this _ ?"

Tom practically wheezed, " _ No _ Madame."

Removing her hand from his, she smiled impishly when he continued toying with her, his glazed eyes staring at the dainty pink nub as though he’d like to taste it. 

Tom’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. 

"Then don't call me that, my sweet boy," she cooed, pleased.

He lifted his eyes to her face, thoroughly captivated by the creature before him.

"What shall I call you then, my love?" Tom asked in an entranced murmur, having completely forgotten his original plight.

Her smile stretched impossibly wide and she swept a few short curls of his hair from his forehead, flashing the sigil burned into Hermione’s palm from the demon’s pendant.

It glowed dimly in the office lights.

"Mistress will do," she murmured against his lips while guiding him to a surface where she could properly straddle him, "Or Lilitu if you prefer."

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out with me on the social medias! o_o
> 
>  **Twitter:** @lechegomyeggo  
>  **Tumblr:** dulce-de-leche-go


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